


Motel Walls Are Made To Be Soundproof

by FicXation



Category: Green Eggs and Ham (Cartoon)
Genre: Gen, I basically just rewrote the episode to suit my needs, M/M, Spoilers for episode ten, but mostly fluff and angst, slight elements of dirty do's
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-16
Updated: 2019-11-16
Packaged: 2021-02-07 07:27:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,907
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21454261
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FicXation/pseuds/FicXation
Summary: Welp. I've officially fallen down the rabbit hole of Netflix's Green Eggs and Ham series. C'est la vie.Because we were ROBBED of this classic shipping scenario towards the beginning of episode ten, I took it upon myself to correct that fatal blunder. Hope you enjoy~! ❤️️❤️️ (And be sure to check out my tumblr, too! https://fic-xation.tumblr.com/)
Relationships: Briefcase Buddies - Relationship, Guy x Sam, I hope so - Relationship, I legit love Michellee and Guy don't get me wrong, Is that their ship name? - Relationship, Sam x Guy, but these two are just my absolute favorite, ❤️️ - Relationship
Comments: 21
Kudos: 383





	Motel Walls Are Made To Be Soundproof

"Uh-oh! Sorry, but I've only got _one _room left. You'll have to _share._"

"Perfect! Slumber party!"

If Guy's extensive, miserable life has taught him anything, it's that the universe loves throwing him a curve ball whenever possible. And the clerk, (_why did he look so familiar?_) seemed only_ too _pleased to oblige.

~~

The motel room was nothing short of standard. Beige, unassuming walls, mass-produced inoffensive factory artwork, a television, and twin, bland lamps framing a -

"... Single bed," grumbled Guy, letting his briefcase topple to the hardwood floor. "Figures."

His travel companion, however, approached the subject with his usual flair of obnoxious optimism.

"Hey! Single bed, double the snuzzles, amiright?" Gleefully, Sam elbowed at Guy's belly, before turning his attention to the warbling attaché. "What say we let you stretch your feathers, huh, buddy?"

"Sam, _wait-!_"

Too late.

Before Guy could get another word in edgewise, Sam flicked at the double latches, and with a caw of delight, Jenkins exploded into the room like a firecracker, crowing and bouncing with all limbs a-gaggle.

“_Gyah-!_” Guy yelped, stumbling onto his backside. Lucky for him, there was little in the room that could warrant an outrageous destruction fee…

… The _noise_ on the other hand…

“Yeaa-_aaah, _Mistah J!” Sam whooped, bounding atop the lone bed like the sugar-addled child he was. “Talk about a _party animal!_”

Guy, however, was far from impressed.

"WILL you two keep it _DOWN_?!" he hissed, making a mad swipe for the Chikaraffe’s leg. With a playful squawk, however, the bird merely hoisted the elder Knox into the air, before catching him roughly by the scruff of his collar.

"What's got _your_ wockets in a bunch?" Sam sneered, already making himself comfortable against the freshly laundered pillows. Guy, meanwhile, could only dangle helplessly from the smiling beak as he glared towards the wannabe _bon vivant._

Thrashing his arms, he managed to free himself before collapsing to the mattress like a sack of cement.

"I don't know if you've _noticed,_ or you're just too crazy to care-" Guy snarled, rising to his knees. "But we are up to our_ eyebrows_ in witnesses! Do the words _noise complaint _mean anything to you?! Or, better yet, _search warrant?”_

Valid concerns to be sure, but naturally, Sam shot him down with no more than a shrug.

"Chill-_AX, _my S.O.O.M.D.B... Stressed-Out-Over-Minor-Details-Buddy!” Reaching into the bedside drawer, he began to poke about curiously, evidently looking for something. “Motel walls are_ made _to be soundproof! I mean, heaven _forbid _ya let the_ whole_ building know you n’ your partner are havin’ sweet, _wonderful_-”

_“SAM!”_  
  
Flushed and flabbergasted, Guy clapped his hands to Jenkins’ ears. (Or, at least, where he assumed ears _would_ be.)

Innocently, Sam tilted his head to one side. “… What? I’m just sayin’, no one wants to have _cereal _with everyone listening in. Call me old fashioned, but _I_ think slurping and crunching should be done behind closed doors only… _Ooh! _Speaking of which-”

Unsurprisingly, Sam was quick to find the room service menu. Wasting no time, he began to rifle through the cardboard pages, feigning a look of pseudo-concentration.

“… Let’s _see_…” he murmured, scratching his chin.

Guy, dumbstruck, could do nothing more than release Jenkins’ head with an aggravated grumph of embarrassment, clumsily shifting his hands into the pockets of his fur.

Why did he get the feeling Sam's… _suggestive_ phrasing was all too deliberate?

"… Look-" he said at last, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Just do me a favor, and keep the nonsense to a _minimum _tonight, okay?"

"Roger-dodger, Captain Cantankerous!" Sam proclaimed, posing his hand in a jolly salute. "Me n' Mr. J'll be the very _models_ of good behavior! ... Won't we, boy? Huh?"

Jenkins, with an excitable gobble, swiftly rolled onto his back.

_"Ooooh-” _Sam cooed. “Looks like _someone _is croakin’ for a strokin’!”

With reckless abandon, he launched himself towards the bird, eagerly combing his hands along the soft, feathery belly. “We're gonna be _good, _wholesome tenants for this _good,_ wholesome establishment. Aren't we? Aren't we, ya silly-willy-nilly-boy...!"

Even Guy couldn’t help but smile slightly, quietly succumbing to a gentle pet along the downy fuzz of the Chikaraffe’s neck.

The power of Sam’s smugness, though, was certainly enough to ruin the moment. With a jerk of his hand, Guy hastily withdrew, and crossed over to the phone atop the T.V mantle.

“Ah, gettin’ the _midnight munchies_, are we?” Sam smirked, flopping onto his stomach.

“… Sam, it’s _seven-thirty._”

“You say _tomato_, I say _ketchup._” He shrugged, propping himself against his elbows. “Oh, but ya know what tastes _great _in a motel room paid for by identity theft? Couple a’-!”

"If you say the words, 'eggs,' or 'ham,' or 'green,' in any particular order, I'm dumping you off at the diner where I found you." Guy warned, his brows derisively furrowed.

"... Questioned rescinded!" Sam chirped, though something in his expression seemed to have faltered a bit.

... Or, maybe it was just Guy's imagination.

"In_ any_ case-" Guy's furry finger trailed the length of the rotary dial. "I'm not callin' room service. I'm just gonna ask the front desk to send up a cot."

Sam chuckled, impishly turning to his back as he kicked at the air. "A _cot?_ … Honestly, Guy, you spoil this bird _silly!_ But there's _really _no need, I mean, this goofball should be fine with just a sheet or two-"

"It's not for Jenkins." Guy said stoutly. "It's for me."

… Sam’s feet ceased their flexing. Pouncing back to his knees, he stared at Guy with eyes like saucers.

"... For _you?_" He repeated dumbly. "Ya mean you're not-" 

"No." Guy huffed. "I'm not." Shifting his shoulders, he fidgeted slightly with the coil of the phone. "... It... It’s just for comfort's sake. I-I'd feel better if _we _weren't... If _I_-" He cut himself off, practically _tangling_ the cord between his awkward joints.

Sam observed his friend for a moment or two, before smiling easily with a flash of his hand. "Say no more, Pally O'Malley. You need your sleep-space, and I respect that. So!” He leapt to his feet. “What d'ya say we pull the ol' switcheroonie, and trade spots, huh? Let ME take the cot, and you can help yourself to the king-size!"

He then made an exaggerated gesture across the bedspread, like a gameshow host parading a new car. Needless to say, Guy was a little more than surprised.

"... Are... are you _sure?"_

"Of course! A lil' guy like me doesn't need this much room, anyway. Besides-” Slowly, Sam tucked his hands behind his back, sheepishly shuffling at his feet. “… After all the confuzzlement I've put ya through, this only seems fair."

… Sam was certainly a lot of things, (the words _'dope,' _and_ 'nimrod'_ generally came to mind,) but every once in a while, he showed a certain level of autonomy Guy didn't think was possible. Briefly lost for words, Guy stared, slightly slack-jawed, before inevitably coming to his senses with a shake of his head.

"... Er... Thank you." He mumbled quietly.

~~

After everything that Guy’d gone through within the last two days, (ranging from breakneck bean-recovery, to adversarial avalanches,) he would’ve happily sacrificed his own _appendix_ for a good night’s rest.

Unfortunately, (but not unsurprisingly,) he had no such luck.

At first, it’d been Jenkins vying for his attention, whining softly as he prodded his beak to Guy’s shoulder.

“… Mr. Jenkins… _No_… It’s sleep-time…” Guy murmured drowsily, his face half-hidden behind the mound of pillow. If Guy had to guess, he’d wager the big fella was just restless, or hungry… But there was something to his chirping that felt more… desperate. Like he was actively _pleading_ for Guy’s attention. Against his better judgement, Guy finally arose with a groggy grouse, rubbing his palm to the grittiness of his sleep-starved eyes.

“Alright, buddy, wassa matter?” he mumbled with a yawn. Looking over to the creature, Guy expected him to be pecking at the windows, or, (heaven forbid,) scratching at the door… But, to his surprise, Jenkins’ attention was not pointed at the room…

But to Sam.

Sam, who was curled like a boiled shrimp against the suspended canvas of the lightweight cot, quivering pitifully…

_… Oh, Dillikins, is he sick?!_

Frantically, Guy flicked at the adjoining lamp, scrambling to Sam’s side.

“Sam! Sam, what-”

_“… M’sorry…”_

Sam’s voice came in feebly; _so_ feebly, in fact, that Guy wasn’t even sure he’d really heard it. Brow furrowed, he gingerly knelt to the floor.

Sam was… _sorry?_

… Sorry for what?

It was _then_ that Guy realized – Sam wasn’t sick, he was _dreaming_… Then again, judging by the violent twitches, maybe _nightmare_ would be the better word…

"Sam... Sam, c'mon, wake up-" Guy whispered, hopelessly jostling at his partner’s shoulders… but to no avail.

"... _M'sorry_..." Sam mumbled again. Guy couldn’t quite pinpoint it, but something about his voice was... _unnerving._ It lacked his devil-may-care smoothness and bravado... It sounded weaker, smaller... _younger, _even. “I… I_ promise _I'll be good... I won't be a burden, Mom, _please_-"

Without warning, Sam’s rubbery arms twisted themselves around Guy’s unsuspecting midsection like a snake. He reeled, flustered and shocked, but there was no prying the little man from the surprise embrace. He seemed glued to Guy’s stomach, murmuring pathetically all the while,

“Don’t leave… Don’t leave, I’ll be good… I _swear_ I’ll be good…”

It was not the monstrous storm of a boisterous sob, but instead, something quieter... and, all together sadder. It rattled in Sam's ribcage, shaking him from the inside-out. Against his friend, he shivered like a pup, huffing and panting and gulping for air, as his tears dampened the weathered, oak-colored coat.

Guy was all too familiar with the type of nightmare Sam was having, even if the specific context was lost on him. More than once, he’d woken up to an exhausted morning after a fit of grief-filled sleep; his face so ludicrously wet with tears, one would think it'd been raining indoors.

"SAM!" Guy hissed, rustling at his partner’s arms like a maraca. Still murmuring his ghostly pleas, Sam head merely bobbed lifelessly.

“What is he, _comatose_?!" Guy seethed, shooting Jenkins a thunderstruck look. "I can't get him up!"

Mr. Jenkins whimpered hopelessly, glancing between his two adopted papas dads like a frightened toddler. Just then, his face lit up, and, (in what Sam would no doubt classify as a lightbulb moment,) he snapped his powerful jaws at the little man's leg.

… Sam was certainly awake _then_. His eyes popped open like two jack-in-the-boxes, and with an exaggerated breath, Guy knew a scream was bound to follow. Reeling, he hastily clapped his hands to his partner's open mouth, but not even _that _was enough to stifle the shriek of pain.

"Shh- be quiet, just be quiet!" he urged, not troubling to temper his own volume as he wrestled the writhing Sam. It proved to be more difficult than one would think, (after all, he was no bigger than their luggage to begin with,) but in his twisting arms, Sam squirmed and thrashed a weasel.

“You're fine, you're okay, just be quiet, _please!"_

_THUMP-THUMP-THUMP!_

There came a harsh hammering from the opposite wall, rattling the headboard and lamps in its wake.

“Hey-!” cried a muffled, male voice. “Put a_ cork_ in it over there!”

“Yeah!” resounded a second, unfamiliar, (but equally masculine,) voice. “_Some_ of us are tryin’ to eat _cereal_ here!”

Red-faced with effort as well as embarrassment, Guy bit at his lip.

_… So much for soundproof walls…_

“S-sorry!” he stammered, hurriedly gesturing for Jenkins to hush. “My, uh… my_ buddy _here just stubbed his toe! … We – we promise to keep it down!”

“Yeah, you _better!” _growled the first voice. “Cause if I hear one more peep outta _either_ a’ you, I’m filin’ a complaint!”

Guy swallowed. “… D-duly noted…” Briefly, he paused, wondering what else to say. “Er… Sleep tight!” he added, with a gawky sort of grin.

“I wouldn’t _count_ on it!” giggled the second voice.

Finally, after a moment of strained silence, Guy let out a breath.

“You know, those two sound _so_ cute together.”

With a strangled yap, Guy glanced down towards Sam. He’d all but forgotten about his partner, now _perfectly_ conscious as he lounged within the incidental cradle.

“I gotta say-” Sam continued, casually resting his hands behind his head. “In spite of the blinding pain in my leg, this is a pretty nice way to wake up.”

With a noise of disgust, Guy hastily tossed Sam to the bed like one unloading a bag of trash.

“For your _information_-” he snapped. “I was _trying_ to wake you up before you got us thrown out on our furry duffs! You were caterwauling like a Pandog with a Spork in its spleen!”

… Okay, so, maybe that was a _bit_ of an exaggeration. E_ven_ Jenkins shot Guy an accusatorial glare.

Sam’s smile, however, was dropped almost at once. “… You… You_ heard _all that?”

Guy blinked, a little stunned. He’d been expecting a laugh, or a dismissive hand-wave, but… Sam looked almost _afraid,_ sitting back against his knees as he anxiously wrung at his hands.

“… Er… Not _too _much-” Guy mumbled, suddenly feeling as fretful as Sam looked. There was something so _off-putting _about seeing such a plucky spirit look so apprehensive… Sheepishly, he rubbed at his arm, glancing towards the ground. “… I-I mean… You mentioned your _mom _once, but-”

Guy looked up, suddenly noting the subtle twitch in Sam’s seemingly blank eyes.

“… Sam…?” he ventured cautiously.

All at once, Sam’s voice broke out in a crooked sort of chortle.

_“BOY-!”_ he proclaimed, in an unsettling parody of his usual swagger as he hopped to the floor. “I _sure_ could go for a swim right now! Did ya know this place even _had_ a pool? I was _shocked, _I mean, _talk_ about luxury! Did I remember to pack my swim-trunks? Ah, I guess it doesn’t matter; I mean, I only got the_ one_ shirt anyway, right? Do ya think they got pool floaties? Gee, I hope they got pool flo-”

“Sam.”

The little vagabond was already halfway towards the door when Guy’s hand came to rest at his shoulder. Visibly cringing, Sam risked a glimpse, and found his partner’s expression rather… uncharacteristically compassionate.

"... Heh... No beatin' around the bush with _you,_ huh?” Chewing his lip, Sam looked back down. “… L-look, it... it's nothing! We all have our weird dreams, it's nothin' to get all flibberty-gibbet about!"

Guy groaned, wearily massaging at the corner of his eye. "Sam, a dream about two countries warring over butter is weird. _You _were having a sleep-paralyzing _nightmare. _It was…” He paused, suddenly feeling considerably warm. “… Disconcerting.”

"... Oh, _Guy-_" Sam's eyes wobbled with hyperbolic affection. "You _do_ care!"

He lunged for a hug, but, per the norm, Guy was quick to rebuff.

"I just wanna get this resolved so I can get some sleep, okay?" he spat, shoving the Who to one side. Nevertheless, Sam remained as misty-eyed as a child coveting a Valentine's Day card.

"Okaaaay... ya big ol' softie-pants."

With an amorous giggle, he lightly tapped at Guy's knee, who just rolled his eyes.

“… Alright, c’mon you.” Decisively, Guy headed back towards the bed, helping himself to a seat along the edge. Turning his eyes, he tapped at the open space beside him, to which Sam gave his usual melodramatic gasp.

"You... you _mean_ it?"

Reddening slightly, Guy scowled heavily. "Don’t go gettin’ mushy on me; my legs were just gettin' _tired_, and..." he trailed off, shaking his head. "Look, just get over here before I change my mind."

With a hoot, and a tap of his heels, Sam was already in, burrowing beneath the blankets like a rabid Groundgopher. As tightly wound as a burrito, he poked his face out from the folds, and giggled huskily.

"I always say, heart-to-heart talks are_ always_ better when you're all snuzzled up under a blanket! Ooh, ya know what would make this even better? Hot _choco_-late!" Dreamily, he sighed, and smacked at his lips. "What do ya say we order ourselves a round to get started, and-"

“Sam, _stop _trying to change the subject and _talk_ to me.” Guy interjected, swiveling in place as he crossed his legs. “… Is talking about your mother _that_ much of a sudden sore spot for you?”

Even before the sentence was out, Guy _knew_ he’d said the wrong thing. Sam lost all trace of mirth in his expression, slowly staring out towards the opposite wall like a man in mourning.

It then occurred to Guy this was probably the first Sam was ever reluctant to speak.

"... Look-" Guy sighed, resting his arms to his raised knees. "... I'm probably the last Guy to be givin' advice about family stuff, but... whatever the deal is, it seems to _me_ like your mom really loved you... And I mean, look at you _now._ A certified wildlife protector-! A _hero,_ risking life and limb to protect a helpless animal-"

With every word of praise, Sam seemed to sink further and further into the blankets. Sensing the obvious discomfort, Guy quickly switched gears.

"... Look, bottom line is, you got a_ lot_ for a mom to be proud of. That..." he glanced over his shoulder towards the briefcase housing his dismantled self-flyer, and sighed. "... That's more than a lot of people can say."

Despite the gentle words, Sam continued to stew in his self-imposed silence. Warbling softly, Jenkins reached out across the bed, and nudged his nose to Sam's shoulder invitingly. With a resigned sort of smile, Sam naturally obliged, stroking his hand along the bird's mop of magenta hair.

"... I _can't_ say any of that, though..." he said quietly. More quietly, in fact, than Guy'd ever heard him. "My mom wouldn't be proud, ‘cause... she never knew me."

Silently, Jenkins withdrew his head, as Guy could only stare. "... _What_ did you say?"

Surely he'd heard wrong.

"... I made it all up." Sam mumbled after a moment. "Everything I said about my mom... was a lie."

_... Then... All those stories-_

"But... But what about the juice incident?" Guy reasoned. "Or the stuffed animals, or - or-" briefly, he snapped at his fingers, desperately wracking his brain for any other examples. "Or your imaginary friend, Reggie? Who she pretended was real?"

Beneath the thick veneer of shame and guilt, Sam couldn't help but feel a soft pat of fondness for his gruffy companion.

... He really _had_ been listening...

"Made up... Pretend... Non-existaroo." he listed hoarsely, staring up towards the ceiling. "I never told anybody this before, but... when I was very little my mom-" Sam's voice broke slightly, and he swallowed. "... Left me at an orphanage... It's always just been me. I mean-" he paused, smiling ever so faintly. "At least until I met you."

... Guy was stupefied. Practically since the beginning, he'd pegged his fellow felon as a fool; a clingy buffoon born with an undeserved silver spoon in his mouth... And now, come to find out... he'd been abandoned?

"... Do you remember anything about your parents?" Guy ventured softly.

Sam looked away. "... I remember my mom... a little. Just... _one _thing."

"What?"

Even in the darkness, Guy could catch the faintest hue of rose blooming through Sam's pearly fur. Shuffling deeper under the covers, he mumbled sheepishly, "It's not important..."

Guy found himself leaning forward.

"Go ahead," he whispered encouragingly.

Though something told him he already knew what it was. Whimpering shyly, Sam drew the brim of his sleep cap over his eyes.

"... It's silly..."

"... Sam..."

Sam jolted slightly, looking out from under his hat. He'd known from the get-go that Guy was not a touchy-feely sort of Knox, and yet... he'd made a gentle reach for his partner's trembling hand, as seamlessly as though he'd been practicing for years. And even more puzzling, he showed no sign of regret, or awkwardness... He just stared with those lined, tired eyes, and squeezed.

Sam’s face went from white to pink… Then, smiling in defeat, he relaxed, and gazed up towards the ceiling.

"... She made me breakfast."

... Guy'd known it, without really knowing it... And even still, he couldn't think of what to say. How many times had Sam ordered that dish in their shared existence? ... And how many times did Guy gag, and shudder, and turn his nose up at it?

... How many times did he turn his nose up to _her_ memory?

The guilt suddenly sagged in his stomach like a stone.

"... I bet hers-" he said after a beat. "... Were_ really_ good."

Sam chuckled sadly, finally turning onto his side, though he still avoided eye contact. With his free hand, he mournfully traced the swirling pattern of the bed sheet. "The best... Really green... Super eggy... I've been trying to find her all these years, so I could ask... why, ya know?" He blinked, and a tear lazily trailed along his fur. "... Why she gave me up..."

Guy wanted to say something..._ anything_... but a saddened, desperate chuckle quickly interrupted.

"I-I'm sure it's a good reason, I just-" Sam's voice seem to thicken with grief, as his grip on Guy's hand only tightened. One by one, tear after tear splashed against the bedspread, but Sam was determined to carry on. "... I really wanna know... So I keep ordering them, and I keep trying them... But they're..." he struggled to swallow the burgeoning lump in his throat. "... Never _hers_..."

Sam I-Am and Guy Am-I had not been together for very long, but in their time together, there seemed to be one hard and fast rule.

Sam was always the first to instigate a hug.

Tonight, Guy broke that rule.

“… Keep trying, Sam …” he whispered, gently cupping Sam’s head to his chest. The gesture and confession proved to be too much for Sam, as he quickly dissolved into snuffles of catharsis, desperately clasping his Guy like a life preserver. Purring softly, Jenkins curled his elastic neck around the pair of them, encircling the two like a wreath of pure warmth.

"Here, blow." Guy said after a minute, plucking a tissue from the box atop the bedside drawers, and gingerly held it to Sam's button nose.

Unfortunately, the moment of tactile tenderness was quickly squelched, as, with a nasally Bronx cheer, Sam's thunderous mucus rocketed a stream of slime as green as his eggs. Quickly suppressing the urge to retch, Guy snagged at a fistful of tissues, hastily smothering them to Sam's sticky face.

"... Better?" he asked, swiftly tossing the snotty clump to one side.

Sam gave a shuttering sniffle, nodding weakly.

“… Y-yeah… Th-thanks, Guy…” Smiling wetly, he dragged his knuckles across his swimming eye before casting the discarded cot a look of drained submission. “I… I guess I oughta be gettin’ back to bed…”

He made to move, but was suddenly pulled back in by Guy.

“… You don’t _have _to leave…” he muttered, squaring his shoulders with a great show of shyness. Lowering his gaze, he buried his twisted mouth against the fluff of his tawny neckline. “… N-not… not if you don’t _want_ to, I mean…”

“... For _real?”_ Sam gawked. “… But… but what about your sleep-space?”

“Eh,” Guy shrugged, finally sliding in under the comforter, as Jenkins dutifully uncoiled. “I _always_ sleep alone… So, maybe…” Shyly, he fluffed at his pillow. “… I_ could_ try it with a companion, for once… Who knows?”

Without realizing it, he’d shuffled in closer, making a second clasp for Sam’s feeble hand.

“… I might wind up liking it.”


End file.
